To Seek Our Misfortune
by PhoenixSnitch
Summary: Every person in both the Wizarding and Muggle world knew that something evil was stirring. Suddenly everyone has become distant and had little care for the people around them. Rose sensed this sooner than the consequences occurred. But how would she stop the one regaining power? No one would be there to protect her.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to the work of J.K. Rowling except for original characters created by myself. **

**My first fanfic based on a rather unique pairing. Hope you all enjoy!**

Mornings were always a drag, especially for the cantankerous Muggles trotting down the streets of London. It was 7:15 A.M. and as far as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was concerned, there was a loon half-blood running among the crowd of businessmen and women in an almost incongruous manner. For that sole reason, Mrs. Hermione Weasley was determined to catch the rogue wizard red-handed.

Wearing a pin-stripped grey suit and unruly chestnut curls tied back into a bun, she received less moody glares from the people as usual. For the most part, she found it rather peculiar how a member of the Wizarding world would decide to hide out in an abandoned alley surrounded by even more cantankerous human beings. Then again, it would be a wise decision for an outlaw to seek out the most unlikely location to be spotted. _He's good_, she thought ruefully.

It wasn't until five minutes later that she decided to Apparate to a familiar street, the Tottenham Court Road to be precise. Would it be sheer coincidence if she were to run into the stray Death Eater at the Luchino Caffe? Maybe it could be that blasted Dolohov of all people. Hadn't Harry gotten rid of him so many years back? The current predicament was just as bad as having Bellatrix roaming Hogsmeade with Lord Voldemort himself. But they were both gone. That was the Golden Trio's happily ever after.

Now she had to get rid of this troublemaker.

Things had begun to get more… out of hand when some sort of rebellious feeling stirred in the hearts of those who were frightened, perhaps? No wizard or Squib for that matter detested Harry Potter, the savior and Chosen One all had looked upon for protection. Now he was a well-respected Head Auror at the British Ministry of Magic. If no one resented him, then why would little crime scenes take action all of a sudden?

"It's because of those bloody Death Eaters still full of You-Know-Know," Ron would remind her. Anger hulled her conscience once again as she pushed open the doors.

"Have you seen a man dashing into here wearing the oddest clothing?" Hermione inquired. The back of the clerk faced her, the heels of their hands resting on the counter. She pursed her lips. "Sir? Excuse me?"

"Ah, the Mudblood wants a drink, no?" the male spun around, his palms clasped around the tabletop, body arched forward. "Do you plan on capturing me?"

"Yes, I do." His arm was raised, wand of dragon heartstring wrapped around scraped fingers. "Put that down."

His lips curled. "You and what army, Lassie?"

"S_tupefy!" _And his body rocketed backwards towards the kitchen's doors, later sliding ungracefully to the ground. Hermione sucked in a breath.

"Was that necessary, Chaisty?" she scolded. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself."

"I'm sure you are, 'Mione, but even Rukin is a tad bit out of your league." The Auror chuckled to himself. "You reckon he's worthy of having a Wizengamot trial?" Hermione sighed.

"All persons are acceptable to a trial and you know it," she said. "However, I wouldn't be surprised if the jury would claim him guilty on the spot." Her attention lingered onto that of the Death Eater a moment too long. "Something tells me we should report to Harry."

"We always report to Auror Potter, Chief Granger." Hermione flushed at the nickname. "Isn't that how it's always been?"

"Normally I do let him know, _Auror_ Chaisty, but the last thing I need is for Ginny to start ranting again about the stress Harry is going through. I know it's been hard on him, you know, having to deal with more cases than usual, but what can we do? It's so difficult to have to go through this, and this Death Eater isn't making life any easier."

"Don't worry, Granger, everything's going to work out. All we need to do now is get this one back to Azkaban." Chaisty sauntered to the lazy figure and kicked the heel of his boot. "When do you think he'll wake up?" She was suddenly slapped in the face by reality.

"Well, Sir, I'm not taking any chances with this one. He has great potential… flirting potential. Now help me lift him, will you?"

"Oh, right…" They began to Apparate to the Ministry.

"_The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."_

"Pleasant day my arse," Weasley grumbled. Wizards and witches of various appearances emptied the elevator.

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded. "The Ministry isn't half as bad as it used to be. Will you please accept that?" He rolled his eyes.

"All Harry needs are a few bottles of Firewhisky to drown all his troubles. Isn't that right, 'Mione?"

"Most certainly not, Ronald Bilius Weasley! Molly would most certainly disapprove of that."

"Mum doesn't have to know about it," he mumbled with a devilish grin.

"Even so," Hermione continued, her tone layered with apprehension, "Ginny is going to start worrying again. I'm not so sure as to how her situation is like. With the three of her children at Hogwarts with this going on… Hugo and Rosie—"

"Relax, 'Mione, no one knows about their return. Minerva doesn't know either, if it makes you feel any better."

"You're lucky the Headmistress doesn't know. I swear gossip spreads like wildfire in that school. It's ridiculous." Ron cast her a vacant stare and merely shrugged when reaching Level Two of the building.

"_Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department,"_ announced the genderless voice. "_The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."_

The Weasleys stepped off and headed straight toward Hermione's office. The mahogany doors were thrown open as she singled out the sole desk cluttered with files. Ron peered down at the table.

"What could you possibly be looking for?"

"More documents on this issue," she muttered. She shoved her arm down an enchanted duffel bag and yanked out her wand. _"Accio D.E.F.!"_ Ron arched an eyebrow at the binder in her awaiting arms.

"What's that?"

"Extra papers for Harry."

"In this department?" Hermione furrowed her eyebrows.

"It's rather complicated. You see, there have been several accounts of these mysterious dark ones running around committing the most random crimes." She paused to drop the binder on a coffee table. "The latest one fell into the task of my department, obviously. Mr. Gabriel Rukin was my last case assigned for tinkering with Muggle electronics."

"Electro-what?"

"Never mind, you. In simpler terms, he was manipulating the daily lives of these Muggles and managed to show up on their newspapers."

"The ones where pictures don't move. How terribly boring."

"Please be serious. Anyway, whatever relates to it goes to Harry. I honestly don't want to deliver this to him but I have no choice."

"Hand it to Ravensdale to get things over with?" Ron suggested.

"Why not give it to me right now?" a foreign voice echoed.

"Harry! You scared me senseless like that." Hermione threw her arms around him in an embrace. As soon as she pulled back, Harry frowned. She scowled back. "Harry, you haven't slept for ages." The dark shadows beneath the frames of his glasses circled in the most depressing way.

"Mate, go doze off in your office. No one's going to watch." Harry cracked a bated grin.

"If only I could. I haven't even seen the kids go off for Hogwarts." Hermione's smile only faltered even more.

"And all this time we thought you and Ginny just left early," she murmured before resting a hand on his shoulder. "It's not a problem. They know you're extremely busy. Albus, James, Lily… They'll all understand."

"You can owl them soon," Ron reminded him. "Just take a break."

"I will when the world allows me to."

Not even the faintest streak of light ignited a spark in his green eyes. Would the thought of betrayal somehow course through the thoughts of his children? If so, would they even forgive him? Harry rested his palm on a windowsill, gazing up into the sluggish grey clouds of a so-called morning. Dawn would never appear until this madness all came to an end.


	2. Sleeping Draughts

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

_By Arsenius Jigger _

_~For basic brews, look no further._

Feathers seemed to float around her as she gazed down at the candle's flame. In a silent mantra she always whispered, "One foot left, keep writing, Rosie." Lily always found herself stroking Rosie's hair to soothe her. James would shoot her a humorous smile. Albus said nothing.

"Just a foot left, Rosie, you can finish this." The flame flickered to death. Almost on instinct she waved her wand. The desk's surrounding atmosphere illuminated with light, red light. She was left to roam her own thoughts, scavenging her conscience like a freight train without its schedule. Once something like that is lost, it'll never be back on track again. It might be lost.

_But I'm not lost,_ she recalled, before staring down at her parchment. _Finish that essay._

Malfoy in the distance would always be found smirking. She easily described it in a single word: infuriating. His bipolar attitude always drove the patience of hers. In one moment, the white-blonde hair that swept across his forehead enhanced the relaxed tension hidden underneath his orbs. Now where had that gone? Nowadays she would catch depressing scenes of his lips curving down into a smirk. His gaze always landed on her at the end, especially when he was in one of his moods. Hadn't he known the sleepless nights she suffered from? Something was most certainly going on and no one was letting her on the big secret.

"_How about you ignore me for a while, Weasley," the breath of mint and butterbeer would invade her nostrils. "I suppose it wouldn't be too hard for someone like me to avoid a typical blood traitor like you."_

That struck a nerve.

"_Why are you bringing this up, Malfoy? You utterly daft Slytherin, haven't you ever appreciated the fact that you were spared from purity insults! Have you ever coped with your father's past?" His eyes fell into slits._

"_That will never change the fact that you're almost as bad as a Mudblood."_ He would then sneer and stalk away. What happened to them? Where was Albus when you needed him most? Did he not understand Scorpius's predicament?

"Just a foot left," she murmured to herself.

"Shut up there, Weasley," a Gryffindor snored. She rolled her eyes.

_Sleeping Draught: Enables temporary, dreamless sleep to the consumer. _

_Overall brewing difficulty of potion: hard._

Perhaps this would put a stop to her mantra. Wouldn't people consider it to be pathetic? _How terribly weak, _thoughts toyed at her sanity.

_Ingredients Required:_

_Flobberworm Mucus_

_Lavender_

_Valerian Sprigs_

Daylight broke loose. She was blinded by light, but no sense of security came along with it.

"_You're just going to drive yourself crazy, Weaslette, let it go."_

"_I know exactly what I'm capable of. I most certainly don't need an egotistical person for that matter deciding what's best for me, much less from you."_ He always chucked at the end. It infuriated her even more.

Before early dawn, when the skies were still tainted with violet, she and James would take a morning stroll down the fields outside of Hogwarts. They would frequently let the others know it was an excuse for them to get hungry for breakfast. But in actuality, they would converse of issues. They focused on the aspects of past events, that of their parents, grandparents, whoever seemed relevant at that moment. No one rejected the simplest, or even most absurd conspiracy, but rather openly accepted it. Who would've known that the jokester succeeding both twin uncles Fred and George would ever be capable of coping with another person's anxiety? It was for that reason Rose's appreciation for having a cousin like James grew firmer each passing day.

_Suggested Copper Cauldron: Brewing time requires 53 minutes_

_Otherwise Pewter Cauldron requires 70 minutes and Brass Cauldron requires 60 minutes._

She set aside her quill and slipped through the doors of the girls' dormitory.

"James! James Sirius Potter, do you hear me?" Rose swatted the potions book lightly on his arm.

"Rosie, you're late. Again. Got sick of me already?" She smiled her pink stained lips.

"Oh, of course, James, that's probably it. Sometimes I even stop to ponder why I even care about coming." She prodded his arm.

"Dear Godric, Rosie, I was almost offended."

"Key word being 'offended', obviously," she murmured softly. "Anyway! Tell me about your N.E.W.T. Doesn't it terrify you how this sole exam plays an outcome to the career you plan on having? Make sure to get perfect Outstandings in each category, Mister, just in case you haven't set a goal, yet. If it's any trouble, though, I say you become an Auror just like Uncle Harry. It sounds like a great career, don't you think? You know, saving the world."

"Honestly, Rose, that was a mouthful. I'm the one in seventh year, remember? I do all the worrying whereas you," he set his palms on her shoulder," start stressing over nothing. You just finished your O.W.L.s and yet you're pissed off at a single E in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Your grades would've made me do cartwheels in the middle of Teddy's and Victore's wedding."

"Keep your thoughts to yourself, James, I don't need any nightmares." She laughed. "I still wonder if you're jealous of not getting the position of Head Boy."

"Quidditch Captain beats that any day."

"Of course, of course," she mused. "It was just a thought." He raised an eyebrow before adding, "Race you back to Great Hall." He shoved past her just as quickly as he made his outburst.

"You immature prat!" she called out, chuckling.

Compared to the ages of generations whizzing by once the Golden Trio left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the current status of the school hasn't changed one bit. The candles resumed levitating in the air, probably done by a permanent swish and flick of a wand, followed by the words _Wingardium Leviosa!_

"_Draco Dormeins Nunquam Titillandus!" _ Lorcan exclaimed. Lysander followed suit, swinging an equally pale arm around his identical brother's shoulder.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" he sighed in content.

"As always," Lorcan responded. James strolled past the two boys, ruffled their dirty blonde hair, and lured Rose to the Gryffindor tables. He looked past her shoulder, and tilted his head down to smirk.

"What's that about?" Rose inquired. Lily slipped into the space to Rose's right, grinned mischievously at her elder brother, and flicked a grape his way. He opened his mouth and swallowed it as a whole. Lily wrinkled her nose.

"You're disgusting, Jamie," she remarked.

"Quit calling me that infernal name, Lily Luna. It sounds feminine."

"That's the trick," she replied, waving the butter knife in her hand in the air. Albus followed suit in a slumber, automatically swiping the instrument from her hand, and dumping down on the bench across from them. His mouth parted open, his hair much more unkempt than usual.

"Oi, mate, you look worse than a Muggle getting kissed by a Dementor," James greeted with a cheeky grin. Albus flashed a glare his brother's way, stuck his tongue out at Lily, and… Frowned at Rose. She twirled the ends of her hair and sniffed.

"What's wrong, Albus? More homework than usual?" Lily prodded. His gaze fixed onto that of Rose's as he answered, "I'm used to it." Rose smeared butter and jam on her toast, never breaking their direct eye contact. James waved his fork in front of Albus's face.

"Was there anything I missed?" He scowled.

"Nothing," Albus responded. "Nothing at all." Weasley temperament crept onto bare ground. Rose shoved the knife's edge deeper into the crust of the bread.

"You sure about that?" Lily mumbled apprehensively.

"Positive. After all, nothing can go wrong with perfect Weasley." Rose's eyes glinted murderous scarlet as she rocketed to her feet. Both his siblings' faces twisted in horror and slight contempt.

"Albus!" Luna hissed.

"No, Lily, let him continue. What is so perfect about us Weasleys? What is it that makes you so envious?" Albus gripped his goblet with fiercer strength.

"All the professors love your charm, right? You have everyone hooked because of your know-it-all attitude. That's just how you plan on having your stupid spotlight. It's always been that way, hasn't it?" Rose trembled in white-hot fury.

"If this has anything to do with the private conversation I had with Scorpius…" she warned.

"Private!" he scoffed. "Even the Ravenclaws could hear you up from the Astronomy Tower! What gave you the right to make fun of him?"

"Oh, did I hear you right, Albus? Do you mean to imply that your self-absorbed, self-righteous, bloody moron of a friend has more priority over me? For starters, he was the one who—you know what? You're not worth it. You don't care what I have to say, even though I'm family!" The goblet slipped from his fingers in an eerie yet subtle movement without crashing on the polished wood. He bent around the end of the table, face-to-face with Rose. He smiled.

"Start acting like family, then, _Weaslette_." James's scowl was set to stone.

"Albus, that was completely uncalled for," he began.

"Shut up, James!" he snapped irritably. "Why stick with Weaslette over here?"

"Weaslette? _Weaslette?_ You loathsome, foul troll, you are insulting your mother!" Rose stressed her cry, "You aren't thinking." She tried again in a rushed, leveled tone. "You listen to me loud and clear, Albus, this is much more than putting family pride down the drain. Watch which direction you want to turn because when you do fall down that cliff with the Malfoys, you will have no one to save you. No one, and I mean no one, will be willing to reach out an arm and pull you back to reality."

"You're only referring to the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, right? The one Uncle Ron has kept up for who knows how long? If I'm not mistaken, he told you that you are to beat every exam out there administered to both you and Scorp. And guess what, you're the kind of prejudiced person who would do that." Lily yanked on Albus's arm roughly.

"Do not make me owl our mum for this." Albus stared straight into Rose's cerulean eyes, almost expressionless in a way. If Lily Luna's threat left any impact on him, it didn't show. He shook his head in pity and eventually stalked away. Rose stood dumbfounded, suddenly emotionally unstable after the events that had unfolded. Once she acknowledged the lack of shouts being thrown at her due to his leave, she hollered, "Fine! Don't take the Valerian Sprigs! See what I care!"

Rose exited the Great Hall as well, the glass vile slipping from her fingers in the process. Neither James nor Lily dared to pick up the shards left behind.


	3. Owls and Parchment

_Ginny Weasley left promptly as soon as Harry and Ron were given their Awards for Special Services to the School and 200 points each for Gryffindor. She shoved past the glint of sorrow and pity in the Weasleys' eyes. Harry Potter rescued her. _The_ Harry Potter himself defended her. She smiled discreetly to herself at the very thought once passing through the Fat Lady portrait and into the Common Room. _

_She would have to get used to ignoring people._

_Students from various years regarded her with great interest, and later began murmuring about the incident. Ginny's smile faltered as she ran to the Girls' Dormitory. She threw herself on her bed and cried._

"_Why did you have to do this to me, Tom?" she wept. "You were my only friend." Her sobs of anguish were muffled into her pillow as more tears streaked down her face. Then something clicked. _

"_I… I can't believe that Harry would do this, though. I thought he knew Tom was my only friend." She smeared the tears away and broke into a fit of giggles. "It's almost as though Harry did this on purpose." She laughed. "Tom, it's almost as though I can hear you. It's almost as though you're right here." Her laughter slowly faded away…_

"Bloody hell," Rose gasped. She jolted straight up, the heels of her palms pressed firmly on the mattress of her bed. She looked around, suddenly blinded by breaking daylight. She blinked the dark spots away just as quickly. Maybe she should owl her family. _I have to_, she thought miserably.

"Hello, Pigwidgeon Junior," Rose greeted. She stroked the petite owl's feathers. The memory lingered in her thoughts for a moment. Aunt Ginny was being tortured, and through her own very conscience, she could feel the unspoken horrors. The feel of it was like harp strings being snapped by a knife's blade. There was no mercy in such an act, and the song that followed was devastating. This Tom was most likely her old boyfriend prior to marrying Uncle Harry. Ron probably didn't approve of him either. Who would anyway? _But Aunt Ginny was far too young,_ Rose contradicted.

She finally acknowledged the owl pecking on her wrist.

"Oh!" Rose exclaimed. "Someone sent a letter before me. Perfect." Her fingers grew numb at the sight of the name printed on the folded parchment. Somehow a strong sense of anxiety grew in spikes on her heart as she anticipated the content written inside. The shadows, she thought, seemed to have wrapped around her in such anticipation, begging for her to tear it open. It felt like a cold hand resting on her shoulder in encouragement.

_Dearest Ronald,_

_They have come. You must meet with us at once. You know the location, so run. We don't have much time left. Be sure the children don't find out. We cannot afford them to separate during such a peril._

_H. G._

Rose heaved a sigh, her fingertips tracing the words written.

"Why would you hide this from me, Mother?" she murmured. Her voice thickened in emotion suddenly as she blinked away tears. But intimately worse than that brief stab of betrayal, what had made her mother use her maiden name? What was the peril that loomed closer and closer as it seemed?

She ran.

No one took notice of the Girls' Lavatory even after the years since the Golden Trio graduated from Hogwarts. Although the floor was better swept and the walls no longer housed so many spider webs, the mirrors were still cracked and soot still covered various corners of the stalls. Rose glanced at the image of herself through the mirror. Her red hair was combed neatly and her attire was well kept in order, but something was off. She leaned closer, her hands gripping onto the corners of the basin. Her eyes, they were red and weary.

"I should've taken that Sleeping Draught for myself," she grumbled.

"Oh, at least you could sleep!" a moan erupted from one of the cubicles. Rose's eyes darted to the closed stall. Her mouth gaped open as the transparent figure stalked toward her. "I can't even swallow food! I'm starving in this rotting lavatory. No one can help me, now can they?" The Ravenclaw ghost's face was pale with dots of acne spread across her nose like freckles. Rose gulped involuntarily and collected herself from the girl's sudden appearance.

"I believe you're Myrtle," Rose muttered. She smoothed the ends of her robes and gazed into the ghost's glasses.

"Yes, I am Myrtle," she exclaimed and spun around to face the stained windows. "But everyone calls me Moaning Myrtle. It doesn't even end there!"

"That must be terrible," Rose began. "I don't usually come here, but I'm rather upset today. I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you." Moaning Myrtle whirled around to face her.

"Stop it, you!" Myrtle crossed her arms. "You're trying to be as charming as that handsome _man_ who opened the cursed sink. Oh, if that stupid Olive wasn't there to make me feel so wretched I would've still been alive! And not even that, but those members of the fabulous Golden Trio came to irritate me as well." Myrtle sniffed. "That Granger girl should've stayed a cat." Rose stiffened.

"A cat?"

"Polyjuice potion mishap," Myrtle waved off. "She should've been careful about which hair she'd stolen from. I bet all she wanted to do was get close to Malfoy." Rose cringed in disgust as the ghost swooned.

"Draco Malfoy? That loathsome ex Death Eater?"

"Yes. It's rather unfortunate that he was a Death Eater. On the bright side, though, he resembled that Slytherin Perfect almost every girl in my time fancied."

"How, um, interesting." Rose coughed into her sleeve. "What was, err, the potion for, really?" Myrtle's eyes bugged out in apparent shock and some glee. She twirled midair with a wicket grin smacked onto her face.

"I can't squeal! He would hate me for it!"

"Him? Hate you? Who could possibly hate you for doing anything?" Rose bit her tongue for fibbing as the questions bombarded her mind. It was a bloody good thing Myrtle didn't know how to perform Legilimency.

"If only the others here would believe that," she moaned. "As for that, I'm confident that he would hate me. After all, I was already promised death because of that fountain sink." The ghost sank to the center of the lavatory and sighed.

"So you won't tell me?"

"Nope."

"Well, fine then." Rose gathered the papers in her hands and shuffled toward the door. Before exiting, though, she turned back and waved.

"Goodbye… _Moaning _Myrtle." Rose shuffled past the students switching classes. The portraits set above her watched in slight irritation at the frenzy of witches and wizards scattering without order, some others shooting glares at Peeves. The poltergeist snickered at a group of first year Hufflepuffs banding together in protection.

"Peeves!" she called out, pulling out her Perfects Badge. "What have I said about raising havoc among the new students? It's not going to be tolerated any longer."

"Little Weasley, Wheezer, Weaslette, you're right!" he snickered sarcastically. Rose lifted her chin with some dignity.

"If you refuse to listen to me, I will request for the Bloody Baron to persuade you." She smirked victoriously as Peeves shrunk back.

"No need for that, Missy! I'll be on my way!" The poltergeist patted the stricken first years' shoulders with a queasy grin and flew up the stairs twice his normal pace. As soon as he was out of sight, Rose sighed in exhaustion.

"Now make sure you don't run into him, okay?" The group nodded and scurried off without a second thought. The episode could've possibly vanished her previous worries of the letter. Possibly. However, it wasn't likely. If Hermione expected her to drop her life's sorrows and join her cousin, well, she was mistaken. No way in any alternate universe would she be capable of forgiving Albus for his undeniable loyalty for the Slytherin Snake of that house. She still had James and Lily and Hugo, and they were all she needed. One person wouldn't break her. She was better than that.

The clock was constantly ticking. If only she could slam it to pieces. Sometimes she ventured into the Forbidden Forest to watch the violet wildflowers blossom on the edges of the tree roots. Not even James appreciated spending time with her in such a volatile setting. However, she never considered the forest to be frightening. After all, it all depended on how the other students greeted darkness. She, unfortunately, had embraced too much of it. Could her miseries kill?

There was a void somewhere within her thoughts and soul, but she didn't want to know of the consequences of filling it. Had it been an emotion she was lacking? She scoffed; she couldn't care less. Somewhere in the world there was a war erupting, and it would soon reach her one day. It was an empty threat that probably haunted Hermione, which inspired her to send the cry of distress to Ron.

Why was something nagging her? She had everything, or so it seemed. She didn't need some people to comfort her; she was a grownup.

_Yes, little Weasley has matured, _her conscience remarked. Rose froze midway her stride through the yards. It awfully sounded like a taunt Aunt Ginny would receive in her younger years.

"I'm never going to sleep with this state of mind," she muttered.

The morning had vanished with most of its remaining light as visible through the tiny space not enclosed by the velvet curtains.

"If I can't sleep then, I'll sleep now." Rose settled in her bed, pulled up the blankets to her chin, and drifted away. Shadows would never find her in this land of no realities.

But she failed to recognize the parchment on her nightstand.

_My Ginny,_

_Come to me or fear what will occur_

_For my heart yearns genuinely for you_

_Ignore all regrets brandishing your heart_

_Because I will come_

_Dearest Ginerva, I understand very well of what has happened over the years. You have finally won Harry once my soul disappeared… or so you hope. I watched the scene unfold just years ago when you continuously yearned for my return. Although you may now consider yourself a mature witch, be rest assured that you still have much to learn. This war isn't over yet._

_T.R._

Tom may have recognized scarlet hair similar to that of Ginny's, but he failed to look into the even stronger determination found in Rose's orbs. Oh, how terribly mistaken was he?


	4. The Ministry Lies

"Settle down class!" The sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins remained silent, watching the professor scribble her name in the air in golden cursive. A thin-lipped smile spread across her face. "My name is Imogen Ravensdale but you may address me as Professor Ravensdale." They watched in fascination as she spread her fingers apart for the words to disappear. She had a unique appearance than most of the other professors, her attire consisting of black robes with a hazy twigs and leaves design. Her coal black hair was tied back in a ponytail, highlighting her tanned skin.

Some students murmured among themselves, "Is she a Veela?" Rose, on the other hand, was engrossed with the magic she performed. Something about her style of sorcery was different, and that captivated her mind even more.

"As for some background information, I was sorted into Hufflepuff a very long time ago. I graduated from Hogwarts eight years ago and worked as a member of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department ever since." Rose straightened immediately; this woman knew her mother no doubt.

"Where is Professor Willows?" A Gryffindor erupted. This exclaim later ensued an outraged series of shouts. Rose shrunk back in her seat, droning out the incoming wave of noise. Professor Ravensdale gazed at the commotion around her, closed her eyes, and clapped. They turned their heads to stare at her.

"As most of you probably already know, Professor Willows is also an Auror. He has been recruited by Auror Harry Potter for a special task," she hesitated for a moment. "Therefore, I will be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class from now on until he returns." More arguments stirred in the classroom.

"Why is it that Aurors are suddenly being recruited now?"

"Are there any more Death Eaters roaming around?"

"I thought they've all been captured!"

"Please, everyone, just calm down!" the professor exclaimed. Silence fell once again. "Thank you. This is my first day teaching professionally and like any other person, I'm slightly terrified. However, I understand your predicament and I personally feel that you are all mature enough to know what's going on. So, if you all cooperate with me in finishing today's lesson, I'll tell you the general outline of the situation. Do we have a deal?" Everyone nodded their heads. "Good."

She shuffled through the textbooks.

"Okay, I believe the last chapter you all were studying were the Unforgivables, am I correct?" The rest nodded. "Alright, so who wants to fill me up on this lesson?" Crickets chirped. "Okay, let's be more specific. What is the Cruciatus Curse? Anyone?" Rose's hand shot up in the air. Some Slytherins snickered behind her. She flushed scarlet.

"Ah, yes, Miss Weasley?" Rose's face turned a more profound shade of red when the professor recognized her.

"As a brief explanation, the Cruciatus Curse is among one of the three Unforgivables which inflicts immense pain on the victim. The verbal form of the curse must be used and can only be performed with a great degree of measure if pronounced with great passion." Professor Ravensdale smiled.

"Correct! Five points to Gryffindor!" Smiles and frowns broke out in the room for a brief second until the next question was asked.

"And the Imperious Curse?" Rose forced herself to seem nonchalant as Scorpius raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr.—"

"Malfoy," he said curtly. She nodded.

"Another Unforgiveable Curse," he announced, his attention placed on his quill. "The caster must have strong will in order to recite this spell, which puts the victim in a dreamlike trance, disabling him or her of all responsibility. Simply put, the caster has full control on the victim's actions." He looked up.

"Excellent! And five points to Slytherin! Well, aren't we off to a great start?"

The rest of the morning went on in a slow drag after Professor Ravensdale waved her wand for the textbooks to be distributed. She requested a foot long essay on resisting the Imperious Curse, a fairly easy assignment on Rose's terms. However, her mind strayed from that very topic as she pondered over what the professor said earlier. Why were Aurors being recalled all of a sudden, especially those teaching at Hogwarts? More importantly, was Uncle Harry alright? Her parents weren't confiding anything at all with her, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Her quill scribbled relentlessly, her agitated thoughts evident in the messy jumble of cursive on her parchment.

"Okay, class," the Ravensdale began. "I promised you all an update on what the Ministry has in store for us." She leaned back on her desk. "For starters, don't tell any of the professors, especially Headmistress, that I'm telling you this, okay?" The students nodded eagerly. "Alright, then. I advice for everyone here to listen loud and clear since you should remember this whenever disaster strikes us, because I assure you, something will happen sooner or later." She paused.

"I need all of you to understand that the Ministry is hiding necessary details on the situation from all of us, especially from the Aurors. They only need us to function properly as though nothing has happened, but rest assured, everything is definitely not fine."

"Meaning?" A Slytherin questioned.

She smiled with ease. "This meaning that not everyone was satisfied post Wizarding War, if you know which one I'm referring to." Everyone nodded. "Wizards and witches alike believe that such a peril would never fall upon us with the Golden Trio protecting us, which is true. They have been seeking out every bit of illegal artifact left from the rise of…" She sucked in a breath. "From the rise of Voldemort." A stunned silence ensued as everyone took the opportunity to cast curious glances at each other.

"The conflict, though, is that no one is exactly aware of the arising league if I may say so myself. A group is rising, and they aren't exactly pleased with _his_ downfall. They may be related to the previous Death Eaters, may it be a totally separate group or perhaps ex Death Eaters hoping for their leader's comeback. That, I don't know specifically. All in all, though, my duty is to protect the students of Hogwarts from ever having to come across the battlefield if there be any. I promise to protect you." It was the most sentimental thing Rose heard after so long. If her parents wouldn't murmur the sweet words to her, she could be assured of having the staff care for their students' well being.

"Is this—" Scorpius whispered to himself. His eyes met those of Rose's, and he began again with more determination. "Is this your sole belief?" Ravensdale shook her head.

"Actually, this is sort of like a rebels belief referring back to the D.A. formed many, _many_ years ago before I went to Hogwarts. The Ministry has the tendency to have a firm belief towards the light of every situation, which isn't a bad thing," she assured quickly. "However, I still think we have to contemplate on the less favorable outcomes in life, especially in situations like these when we know that something grave may come our way." In the hallway, a hum of conversations erupted.

"Class is over. It's been a real pleasure meeting all of you. See you tomorrow!" Everyone rose simultaneously and rushed for the door, ducking underneath levitating textbooks. Rose was one of the last to leave, and she took the chance to look back at her new professor. The woman cracked her knuckles and began to scribble words on the chalkboard, oddly enough, like a Muggle. She smiled to herself before scurrying away to the dungeons for Potions class. Even if everyone was likely to carry a melancholy spell with them, not all people took the effort to downgrade others. Maybe she could believe someone for a change.


End file.
